


Love Like Fire

by lysanatt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is not something that comes from day to day. It takes time to build, but when done, the intense feeling is like nothing else, Lucius realises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Quote by Lee (Bruce) Jun Fan: "Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.

**I**

_Love is like a friendship caught on fire._

'I must admit that I don't understand you, Severus.' Lucius leans over the desk at which Severus sits, half-buried in old potions tomes, a few Muggle novels (or so Lucius thinks, it is unnatural that books don't have decent leather-bound covers, or at least a wizarding photograph on them) and a bundle of scrolls, maybe handed-in assignments from his students.

Severus doesn't react and it annoys Lucius. How this young upstart feels entitled to treat him like this--as if he was worthless, air, a nobody? 'Severus! Answer me!' Lucius smacks his hand so hard down at the old, dusty piece of furniture that a few books give up clinging to the rest and land on the floor with the sound of torn paper.

'Lucius, will you _stop_!' It is not a question. Severus raises his face that has been kept in shadows. His eyes are burning black, not the usual dead, cold dark.

Stepping back, surprised, Lucius wonders what has elicited the change in behaviour. It is not so much that Severus has left the Dark Lord's side. It is not that he suddenly has decided to become a professor, catering to the intolerable Muggle-lover Dumbledore's whims. On the bottom line, it is all about Lucius, about what Lucius thinks and feels and wants. And Severus has betrayed him, made a fool out of him by changing sides. Lucius is not happy, but he can't really put a finger onto why. 'No, I will not,' he sneers, arrogantly. 'Not until you have given me an explanation!'

Stepping closer to Severus, Lucius leans over the chair his young friend is sitting in. Friends they are still, but Lucius is angry. He clenches the carved, polished armrest so hard it creaks. To underline the mess of tangled, unacknowledged feelings Lucius is caught in the bow that has held his hair in place slides off and lets the long strands of silver-light hair fall in a similar tangle over his shoulders.

'An explanation, hm?' Severus' eyes blaze. He reaches out and pushes one of the strands away from Lucius' face, the tip of his index finger brushing over Lucius' skin. It makes him startle. Suddenly Lucius cannot look away, and the explanation he has been asking for seems redundant.

'Lucius, my friend,' Severus' dark voice holds alluring promises. 'Have you ever played with fire?'

 

**II**

_In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering._

The leather creaks rhythmically as Severus puts his hand over Lucius' mouth, preventing any sound from leaving it. The fingers are hard and cruel, like the cock that is shoved into his arse over and over and over. They have fucked so many times that night that Lucius' body is protesting, all its mature glory used up like dry firewood set ablaze. Lucius wants to cry out. He wants to scream, to beg, to moan, but he can't. They have to be quiet, reckless as they are.

Out there, in the library's darkness, their clothes form little soft islands on the floor; spread carelessly as they disposed of them in the frenzy that is their burning lust and desire for the other. If only he could reach one of those islands, take a break, cling to dry land and breathe, but Severus won't let him. Again and again they drown in their desire, finally freed after days confined. Severus makes no sound as he comes, but the way his muscles tense, hard-strung and sharp, lets Lucius know. The leather sofa smells of glycerine soap and of Severus' sweat; this spicy lemon scent that Lucius loves so much. Lucius breathes in before he lets go of the backrest; he had to hold on to something; Severus is ruthless in his need.

With unexpected tenderness, Severus pulls out and turns Lucius around. 'I want it in my mouth,' he whispers in Lucius' ear. 'To swallow you whole.'

Lucius isn't in doubt. At times it feels as if his entire being is swallowed by his eager lover.

In the dim light from the fireplace, Severus' white skin changes into pale golden. The shadows make the sharp angles of his hipbones and collarbone stand out. Severus Snape is not a handsome man, but he knows how to satisfy Lucius and the need Lucius' woman cannot.

Severus leans back in the sofa, pulling Lucius on top of him. A hand on his arse pulls him closer, leaning over Severus' face. There is such hunger in the way Severus looks at him as he takes his erection between his lips. Lucius moans this time, there is no hand to stop him, and Severus' mouth is hot and moist.

Severus pushes two fingers into Lucius' hole. It hurts, but it is not an unpleasant pain. Severus likes to do that after they have fucked, smearing his own semen and the scented oil they use for lubrication over them both. Lucius thinks Severus is a pervert. That fact isn't unpleasant either, on the contrary. Desire smells of lemon and salty sweat; Lucius has licked the sinful mix off Severus' body too many times not to know, just as Severus' tongue has been buried inside Lucius' wide open hole on more than one occasion. Their sex is dirty and messy and bloody addictive.

Then Severus takes Lucius' cock deep down his throat and Lucius cannot do anything but to fuck it; all coherent thinking disappears with the suction. Severus' thin lips give Lucius pleasure that makes him see stars. 'God, Severus... harder! Suck me harder,' Lucius demands before he bites his own hand, trying to keep his orgasm silent. He lets out a whimpering sound and comes in Severus' mouth. The world is a bit blurry at the edges, but Lucius manages to hold himself up on one arm as he relearns how to breathe.

Severus reaches for his wand. A quick spell cleans them both up before they get up from the Chesterfield. 'I'm off,' he informs Lucius, much to Lucius' regret. Lately, Lucius has wondered how it would be if they could go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. The circumstances prevent them, of course, so better not think of it too much. In silence, Lucius watches Severus dress: the usual black attire. No one in their right mind would suspect the stern young Potions master of being this passionate, wild man in bed.

Half naked, only dressed in his shirt, the hair messed up and with a decidedly debauched expression on his beautiful face, Lucius has difficulties letting go of his young lover. 'You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, if you like.' Lucius says as he sees Severus to the door. Lucius wouldn't mind if Severus stayed. Especially he wouldn't mind the chance it would give him to get laid one more time before Severus has to leave. Severus has slept over at the manor so many times that no one suspects anything, except for the house-elf who cleans up the mess they leave. As if it mattered.

'No.' Severus' face betrays nothing. He is still flushed and sweaty and smells of sex, but his eyes are icy; the cold look returning. There are no emotions left. 'I am going back to Hogwarts. Just like you-' Severus cuts himself off, sharply, as if a knife had slashed off the end of the sentence.

 _Just like I return to Narcissa_ , Lucius thinks. 'Good night, then.' He pulls Severus close and kisses him deeply. Severus has no problem continuing the kiss to its natural end by lack of air.

Lucius just turns and walks up the stairs, to his bedroom, to his wife and their young son. To his life as a father, as a husband. To what is expected of him.

 

 **III**

_As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable._

The bedroom is no larger than a spacious broom cupboard. The sun has no trouble filling the tiny room with a bright golden light, despite the thatched roof that sticks out and covers half the window. Spring has invaded the small house, so vastly different from the awful heap of dung in Manchester Severus grew up in. Although Severus has lived here for years, Lucius hasn't really got used to it. It is not as if it doesn't feel like home, because it does. It is more the miracle that he is able to wake up an early Sunday morning and _appreciate_ what he has; what Severus and he have. He is never going to get used to that--the miracle that is life and love.

Lucius turns in bed. He is naked, covered only by a thin sheet and a woollen blanket. It gets too hot otherwise: sun and spring and Severus' similarly naked body make the bed and the bedroom warm enough. He leans on one arm, looking at his sleeping lover. Severus' mouth is tugging upwards at the corners, as if he is dreaming something pleasant, and Lucius leans in and kisses him, softly. Lucius' hair falls over them, making a small cave of dimmed light and kisses; a condensed world in which only the two of them exist. They made love the night before and the satisfaction from their long, intense love-making still lingers; that lazy, relaxed feeling still clings to Lucius' limbs.

Pushing a dark and silver lock away from Severus' face, Lucius' fingers follow the protruding cheekbone down Severus' cheek, over his neck where the weak scars of an earlier part of his life still mar the white skin. 'Love you,' Severus murmurs in his sleep and slips an arm around Lucius' waist. Lucius smiles and kisses the deep wrinkle on the bridge of Severus' nose. They are both getting older, and things that once mattered seem to have lost their importance. When all comes to all, happiness is simple. Wars and conflicts and marriages of duty... they vanish like smoke in the wind, forgotten, compared to a spring morning in a small house in Wales.


End file.
